Smoke Gets in Your Eyes
by splenderous
Summary: When Nancy Wheeler crawls into a tree in 1983, she expects to come face-to-face with the evil that's consuming her small Indiana town. Instead, she finds herself in Maine, 1961. With only her wits and a baseball bat, Nancy is determined to escape this mess and save her friends; but what she finds in Castle Rock may change her priorities. NancyXChris. Stranger Things S1 xOver.
1. Babe Ruth

A/N: I don't know much about crossovers, so I'm not sure if there's a hard-and-fast rule about where to post this. Although this incorporates elements of both Stand By Me & Stranger Things, in my mind it's really a Stand By Me story so I thought it would be most appropriate here. If you feel differently, please let me know - I'm not trying to cheat or break any rules here. And obviously I don't own anything. Thank you for reading! X

* * *

Nancy _felt_ it before she saw it. A presence, dark and dripping, somewhere just out of reach; like a basement door that's been left open in a brightly-light house, a chasm into the unknown.

"Jonathan?" Her ponytail swung wildly as she whipped her head around to look for her companion. There was no answer. She was alone.

With a shiver, Nancy continued to move forward in the direction of the _feeling_ ; whatever it was, it was drawing her in like a magnet. Her feet practically moved themselves, and she found herself clutching the baseball bat even more tightly, as if that would somehow allow her to maintain some sense of control. Soon she was able to make out something dark and glistening through the fog ahead of her. As she drew nearer, she realized it was a tree – but at the same time, it was _not_ a tree.

The tree-thing – whatever it was – was dead; the hollow of its trunk was filled with rotting tissue, and the smell was unbelievable. Repulsed but unable to stop herself, Nancy knelt down and peered into the hollow. It appeared to be a tunnel of some sort, but how deep it went Nancy couldn't say – even with the aid of her flashlight, she could only see a few feet ahead of her. She hesitated for a moment, thinking maybe she should wait for Jonathan; but then images of Barb and Will flashed through her mind. They could be in there. She had to find out. Nancy rocked back on her heels and quickly checked her backpack to make sure the gun was still there. She shoved the baseball bat in as well (although half of it still stuck out). Then she ducked her head and crawled forward into the hollow.

* * *

Trying to ignore the rotted tissue squelching under her palms and the slime dragging through her hair, Nancy pushed deeper and deeper. After a few minutes, her flashlight began to wink; frustrated, she slammed it against the side of the tunnel, and it promptly went out. _Wonderful._ Nancy was now in total darkness, but she was too far in to see the entrance of the tunnel. She pressed on. Soon, she could feel the tunnel begin to widen; at the same time, the squelching under her hands and knees was beginning to feel more like splashing. Realizing that she was sinking deeper into whatever liquid she was crawling through, Nancy attempted to stand and found that she could without her head hitting the ceiling. The liquid was just past her ankles. She splashed forward and soon her surroundings were illuminated by a dim light coming from somewhere off in the distance.

Nancy began to suspect that she was in a sewer. For one, there was the smell. For two, the walls of the tunnel were definitely beginning to look like those of a drainage pipe; some of them even had graffiti. _I was just in a tree. How is this even possible?_ Extremely confused, Nancy began to slosh more quickly until she came to the source of the light, and the end of the tunnel.

 _What the._

Despite the fact that Nancy had just left the woods of Hawkins, Indiana on a cool autumn evening, she now found herself standing in a marsh in broad daylight, in what felt like the blazing heat of midsummer.

Nancy paused for a moment and tried to absorb. There were no people or houses. The air around her was thick with moisture; minges buzzed and nipped at her exposed skin. Brushing them off, she turned to look back into the tunnel. Should she go back and get Jonathan? Or stay here and try to figure out what the hell was going on? As she peered into the dark of the sewer, an unsettling feeling stole over Nancy; not unlike the one she had felt drawing her into the tree in the first place. Shivering, Nancy quickly turned away and resolved not to go back for now. Whatever that _thing_ was, it gave her the creeps.

Seized with this newfound resolve, Nancy began to trek forward through the marsh. At first she followed the steady trickling path of the water flowing from the sewer pipe without a real plan, but then, somewhere not too far off, she heard what sounded like a car whiz by. Inspired, Nancy tacked in that direction and began to climb up the sloping bank, away from the water. After several minutes of struggling through patches of thorns and slippery grass, she finally came out on the side of the road that banked along the side of the hill. She bent over double, panting and coughing, and took off her backpack, jacket, and sweater so that she was only in a T-shirt and jeans. _Okay, now what, idiot?_

Nancy saw two options: continue walking along the road and hope she came a town of some sorts (unlikely given how far out in the wilderness she seemed to be) or hitch a ride somewhere (also unlikely given the fact that she was currently drenched in sweat and sewer water). The second option seemed like less work, though, so Nancy wiped off her face, stuffed her jacket and sweater into her backpack, and waited. It wasn't long before a car came cruising around the corner; Nancy stuck out her thumb, not expecting much on her first try (especially from someone driving such an old-fashioned, fancy-looking car), and was shocked when it slowed to a stop right in front of her. A middle-aged woman with very done-up hair rolled down the passenger side window and looked Nancy up and down.

"Are you all right, dear?"

"Um, yes, well – no, actually – I need a ride? Please?" Nancy stuttered hopefully. The woman pursed her lips.

"Well, where are you going, dear? My husband and I are headed down to Castle Rock, so we could bring you there, or drop you somewhere along the way, but we're not a taxi service."

"No, no, that would be great, Castle Rock is great," said Nancy quickly, eager to avoid more questions. The woman turned the man in the driver's seat.

"Larry?" The man simply shrugged and the woman turned back to Nancy.

"Well, then, hop on in, dear, and mind you don't get any mud on the seats – we've just gotten her cleaned, you know."

" _Thank you_ ," said Nancy emphatically as she hoisted herself into the car.

Larry and his wife were mercifully uncurious about Nancy, for which she was extremely grateful; she didn't think she had the energy to make up a really believable story. They only asked her name (she gave them a fake one – Penny), and whether she had grown up in Derry.

"Derry?" Nancy asked, confused.

"Derry – where we just came from," Larry answered, shooting her a suspicious look in the rear view mirror.

"Oh," said Nancy, "um, I'm actually not from around here. I was just in Derry by chance – and not for very long."

"Mm, yep," said Larry, nodding as if he understood just what she meant. "Smart of you. To get out quick, I mean. Derry's a strange place, ain't it, Linda?"

"Sure is, Lar," his wife nodded in agreement. "Very strange. Sort of dark, you know?" She twisted around to look at Nancy in the backseat. "People disappear there all the time. More so than in other places. You know what I mean?"

Nancy shivered and nodded. _Oh, I know_. Linda settled back in her seat.

"Anyway, that's why were on our way out. Derry's too much for us; my sister lives out in Castle Rock and we're just heading out there to pay her a visit before we move to Indiana."

Nancy had to suppress a snort of laughter. The rest of the ride continued uneventfully and Nancy spent much of it with her head pressed against the thick glass, staring out the window. She quickly discerned through the road signs that she was in Maine. As they merged onto a main highway, Nancy jolted in surprise when she realized that _everyone_ – not just Larry and Linda – was driving an old-fashioned looking car. _What the hell is going on?_ _There's no way…_

She had definitely somehow ended up in Maine from Indiana, but could she have possibly traveled through time as well? Nancy was tempted to ask what the year was, but she didn't want to seem odd. She could find out another way. Finally, after a couple of hours, the silhouette of a small town stood out against the dusky purple of the evening sky.

"Castle Rock," said Linda, nodding up ahead. "You want us to drop you off anywhere special?"

"Oh, uh – no, I guess just the first place we come to is fine," Nancy said. "Here!" She knocked on the window as they rolled past a slightly seedy-looking bar with a couple of old-fashioned motorbikes parked in the lot. A glowing sign over the door read: RAFFERTY'S.

" _Here?_ " Linda sounded aghast as Larry pulled up. "What could you want in a place like _this_?"

"Oh, it's okay, I'm only going to use their phone," said Nancy, thinking quickly. "I have a friend out here that can pick me up, just need to give them a ring."

"Oh, well, I suppose that makes sense," said Linda, relaxing a little bit.

"It's fine, Linda, let her go – besides, we're already late for dinner at your sister's," urged Larry. Nancy nodded along in agreement.

"Yes, totally fine, Linda, I promise," she added. "Thank you so much, both of you." Before they could say another word, Nancy had hopped out of the car and slammed the door shut behind her. She gave them a quick little wave as they backed out, then turned and headed towards the bar. She didn't know what day of the week it was, but it was still early so chances were it would be pretty empty. She'd wash up quick as best she could in the bathroom, then ask if she could use the phone; then she'd call every number she could possibly remember until she found someone who could help her out of this mess.

* * *

Steeling herself, Nancy pushed open the door into a dimly lit room filled with pool tables and covered in sawdust and peanut shells. She'd been right; there was hardly anyone there, save for a couple of loners lurking towards the end of the bar. She walked quickly past, aware that she was drawing attention to herself just by being here, and found the bathroom way at the back. Once inside, she immediately ducked her head under the faucet and frantically attempted to scrub as much of the slime and muck out of her hair as possible. After a lot of effort and only feeling slightly less clean, Nancy slipped back into her sweater and jacket and headed back out. She approached the bar on the opposite end from the two loners, leaning towards the surly-looking bartender who was in the process of wiping glasses with a very dirty rag. He quirked an eyebrow at her.

"You drinkin' somethin', toots?" He asked gruffly.

"No, thanks, not drinking," Nancy shook her head. "I was actually wondering if there's a phone I could use?"

"Yeah, if you're payin'." He jerked a thumb behind him, where an incredibly ancient-looking phone hung on the wall. Nancy fished in the bottom of her backpack and came up with a small handful of quarters. Satisfied, the bartender threw down his rag and opened a swing-top door in the bar to let Nancy through. She put her first quarter into the slot and dialed the first number that came to mind: home. She waited anxiously as it rang, wondering how on earth she was going to explain this to her parents.

"Hello?" said a strange woman's voice.

"Um. Hello?" Said Nancy, caught off guard. "…Mom?"

"Excuse me? I don't have any children. Is this some kind of prank call?"

"Sorry," Nancy breathed, and hung up. Almost immediately, she dialed again, thinking maybe she had gotten the wrong number; but the same woman answered, and Nancy slammed the phone back into the receiver.

"Hey, _watch_ it, toots!" Said the bartender angrily.

"Sorry," she muttered again. Taking a deep breath, she fed more quarters into the phone and continued to dial every number she knew: Steve's, Jonathan's, Barb's, her grandparents, even her Aunt Joan. All strangers. Finally, Nancy was out of numbers and out of quarters. She was alone. She leaned against the wall with her head down, trying not to cry, trying to figure out what to do next.

"You sure you don't need that drink now, toots?" Called the bartender.

"No," Nancy shook her head firmly, straightening up, "couldn't even if I wanted to – that was the last of my money."

"It's on me." Said a voice from the other end of the bar; Nancy's head shot around. One of the two men sitting in the corner leaned into the light and leered at her. He was tall and muscular, with a mess of blonde hair and a healthy five o'clock shadow. He was smoking a cigarette and wore a beaten black leather jacket.

"Come on, darlin', take a seat," he continued, nodding at the stool next to his. Nancy didn't like the look in his eyes.

"That's really nice of you and all, but I have to be going," she said in a rush, pushing her way past the bartender and towards the door. "Thank you!" She called and stepped out into the parking lot. It was fully dark now, and the temperature had started to drop; Nancy shivered, glad she had kept her jacket. Biting her lip, she looked up and down the road, trying to work out her next move. She'd have to find somewhere to sleep, eventually. Should she head further into town? Or head back out into the countryside and find a field or something to crash in? Before Nancy could get any further, her thoughts were interrupted by the slamming of the door behind her. She spun around to see the two men from the bar walking towards her.

"Hey, sweet cheeks, you sure about that drink? There's plenty a' girls around here that'd kill for Ace Merrill to buy 'em a drink, ya know," the blonde said in a syrupy voice as they approached.

"Yeah, they'd kill, alright," laughed the second one – presumably Ace's friend.

"Well, I'm good, thanks," said Nancy stiffly. "I've got to get home – " she turned to stalk off, but Ace grabbed her arm just above the elbow. She shrank back as he and his friend leaned in close to her face.

"Oh yeah? Where's that?" He asked with a smile that meant he knew she didn't have anywhere to go. Something in that smile set Nancy off; and before she knew what she was doing, she had reached around with her other arm and yanked the baseball bat out of the pack on her back. In one fluid motion, she whipped the bat around and cracked it into the side of Ace's head. He jerked away and yowled in pain.

" _What the –_ " Ace's friend yelled indignantly, and charged forward in an attempt to grab the bat out of Nancy's hands. She ripped it down and away from him and deftly swung it right back up into his crotch. He screeched and fell to his knees; Nancy quickly brought the bat up again and looked around to see where Ace had gone. He stood off to the side, rubbing at the side of his head in confusion; but when their eyes met, something in him seemed to reignite and he began stalking toward her.

"You bitch," he breathed, "you'll pay for this." Nancy felt her stomach drop. At that moment, there was a commotion behind them. Ace stopped to look and Nancy spun around. Two more boys had arrived and were gazing wide-eyed at the scene before them: Ace with blood dripping from his temple, his friend kneeling in pain on the ground, and between them – Nancy, bat raised like a Major League Baseball Player and probably still smelling like the Derry sewer system.

"Hey, Eyeball, Mom sent me, she says you gotta get home – what the _hell_ happened here?" said one of the boys, looking from Nancy to Ace.

"I'll tell you what the hell happened, Chambers, that bitch is crazy," Ace spat, jerking his chin towards Nancy. "Came at me and Eyeball with a baseball bat as we was comin' out of Rafferty's."

Nancy's mouth dropped open in indignation; she was about to say something, when the guy on the ground piped up:

"Yeah, we didn't do nothin'! We was just comin' out for a smoke and she just came runnin' outta nowhere and started swingin' like Babe Ruth or somethin'!"

Incredulous, Nancy felt herself raise the bat again and take a threatening step towards him. He had begun to lift himself off the ground, but whimpered and fell down again when he saw her. One of the boys caught Nancy's eye and looked like he was trying not to laugh. For a moment, Nancy fought the urge to laugh, too. It was all so ridiculous. Then she sighed, lowered the bat, and began to walk away. She was wasting her time here; she needed to find somewhere safe to sleep so she could continue on her mission tomorrow.

As she walked, she heard quick footsteps come up behind her; frantic, she raised the bat again and prepared to strike whoever had come after her. But a warm hand grabbed her arm gently, making her stop.

"Hey, Babe Ruth, it's just me." Nancy spun around and came face to face with the boy who was holding her arm. He stood a head taller than her, so she had to tilt her face up to really see him; he wore a hint of a smile, but his eyes shone bright blue with concern. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, thanks," said Nancy, shrugging him off. "Just thinking about going out for softball. Needed some batting practice. They seemed like good targets."

The boy laughed. "Well, I can't say they didn't deserve to get hit," he said, "and it seems like your aim is pretty solid."

"So I've been told." Nancy was surprised to hear herself laugh, too. The boy smiled a half-smile and stuck out his hand.

"Chris Chambers," he said. Nancy hesitated for a moment, then took it; his palm was rough and calloused, but warm.

"Nice to meet you," she replied.

"What, no name?" He asked with a frown. Nancy bit her lip. She didn't want to start giving out her real name yet in this strange place until she figured out what the hell was going on. She also didn't want to lie to this boy who was still shaking her hand and gazing at her with eyes full of concern.

"No name," she said, settling for a half-truth with a shake of her head. "And I've got to get going. Thanks for your help, Chris Chambers." She slipped her hand out of his and backed away until he was just a dark lean shape silhouetted against the star-studded sky. He raised his right hand and waved good-bye. As she raised hers in response, she was struck by sudden inspiration.

"Actually, you already know my name!" She called. He stopped waving in confusion. "It's Babe Ruth!" She finished with a smile. As she turned away from him towards town, she heard him laugh once more.

"Bye, Babe," he said, too quietly for her to hear.


	2. Black Coffee

Nancy walked on into the night. Her heart was racing and she breathed deeply, trying to calm the panic and hysteria that were rising inside her. She was alone, trapped in a strange place in a strange time; she didn't know how to get back, and she didn't know how to move forward. Were Barb and Will here somewhere? Even if they were, Nancy didn't have the slightest idea how to go about looking for them. She had no money and no food. And on top of it all, she'd almost just been assaulted by two men behind a bar.

A wave of exhaustion washed over Nancy. She needed to find a safe place to sleep, and fast. She would have preferred to head back out into the countryside and sleep under the stars somewhere, but that was the direction that group of guys had been headed. Even though Chris seemed okay, Nancy had no desire to run into Ace and his buddy again. She didn't have the energy to use her bat a second time. No; better to keep walking further into town. It was a weeknight, Nancy guessed as she walked; the streets were quiet and empty, the windows dark. Iron-wrought street-lamps cast ghostly pools of light along the main road, and Nancy could see that the storefronts she passed looked distinctly old-fashioned.

After a while, she noticed a faint reddish glow coming from a few buildings down. Curious, she headed towards it and found a squat, friendly-looking restaurant with BLUE POINT DINER flashing across the top in red neon. The diner itself looked open, although it was completely empty save for one woman in a blue waitress uniform who was reading a magazine and lazily chewing gum behind the counter. Nancy debated going in, but then remembered she didn't have any money. Still, the diner gave off a warm, comforting atmosphere, and she didn't want to leave; she felt safe here. Looking off to the side, she noticed an alleyway that led down the side of the building. On instinct she followed it, wrinkling her nose as she stepped over a pile of garbage spilling from an overturned trashcan. She came out at the back of the diner in a small parking lot where a couple of cars were parked.

Struck by a sudden idea, Nancy walked up to the first car and gently tried the handle: locked. _Damn_. She tried the second car and felt a jolt of surprise when it gave way and the door swung open. Nancy quickly looked around to make sure no one was there, then slipped into the backseat of the car and shut the door gently behind her. She'd sleep here tonight and hopefully be able to get out in the morning before the car's owner found her. Nancy wasn't too worried about that; she'd always been a natural early riser.

She curled up along the backseat, backpack stuffed under her head as a pillow and jacket tucked around her like a blanket. She clutched the baseball bat against her chest like a stuffed animal and stared up at the roof of the car, wondering exactly how she had gotten here. Barb's face flashed across her mind, Barb's face the last time Nancy had seen her – judging, confused, full of hurt as Nancy told her to leave. She choked back tears and forced Barb's face away. It was too much. It was all too much. Nancy squeezed her eyes shut, trying to stop all the memories of the family and friends she'd left behind from resurfacing. After a few minutes, she finally began to relax and drift off to sleep. As the darkness closed in, however, a new face sprang into her mind: Chris Chambers, blonde hair glinting in the light spilling out of Rafferty's, face angled down towards hers, asking her if she was okay. His childlike laugh. His warm, rough hand on her arm. This was the last thing Nancy remembered before falling into deep, dreamless sleep.

* * *

Nancy shivered as a cool breeze washed over her. She frowned in her half-sleep state; why was it so cold? She never slept with the windows open, even in the summer. She moved to pull the blankets more tightly around her and froze when she realized they weren't blankets at all, but instead her jacket that was barely big enough to cover her torso. Then it all came rushing back, and Nancy realized exactly where she was. Her eyes shot open and she bolted upright, and gave a little scream of shock. The car door near her feet was open, and the diner waitress from last night was peering in at her with an extremely skeptical expression. She looked about middle-aged and wore her graying hair short, just below the ears; a pair of horn-rimmed glasses; and a nametag on her chest that read FRANCINE. For a moment they both stared at one another. Then, Francine placed a hand on her hip and said:

"Well?"

"I – I –" Nancy stuttered.

"Are you going to sit there stuttering all day, or are you going to explain why you were using the backseat of my car like a motel?"

"I'm sorry –" Nancy managed to get out, "I thought I would be gone by the time anyone needed the car, really I did, I thought the sun would wake me up, but –" Nancy waved her arm in a helpless gesture to indicate the fact that it was actually still dark out. It couldn't have been later than 4 or 5 in the morning.

"Yeah, well, guess it was your bad luck to get stuck with me then," said Francine with a hint of a sarcastic smile. "I was working the late shift. This is when I get off. And now I need my car so I can go home and sleep in my _bed_."

"Right," said Nancy hastily, gathering up her things and scooting forwards along the seat towards the door. Francine stepped back to allow Nancy through. Once they were standing eye to eye, she squinted and gave Nancy a careful up-and-down.

"Say, what's a nice-looking girl like you doing sleeping in the back of strangers' cars, anyway, huh?" She asked, folding her arms across her chest. Nancy hesitated for a moment, trying to work up a believable story.

"I, uh…I ran away from home," she finally managed to get out. "There was trouble. I couldn't take it anymore," Nancy added, hoping that sounded serious enough to prevent Francine from asking more probing questions.

"I see," Francine said with a frown. "And how old are you?"

"Sixteen," Nancy answered truthfully.

"Hmm," Francine said, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "And you have nowhere else to go? No money?"

"No, nothing," Nancy bit her lip and felt her face burn with shame.

"Well, it seems like we might be able to help each other out, then," said Francine. Nancy's eyes shot up to hers in surprise and hope; it didn't look like she was joking.

"See," Francine continued, "I don't normally work these night shifts. I actually own this place," she said, jerking her thumb back towards the diner. "But my last girl just quit on me so I've been short-staffed, and I'm running myself ragged trying to pick up all these extra shifts. What's more, this girl who quit _was_ renting out the room above the diner, but she moved clean out of town. I haven't found a new renter yet; not many people wanna live above an all-night diner. So I'm losing money on it."

"I see," nodded Nancy, seeing vaguely where this was going but trying not to get her hopes up too much. "Well that sounds lovely, but like I said, I don't have any money so I wouldn't be much help to you in the rent department."

"Oh, but I think you would," said Francine with a glint of a smile. "I'd be willing to let you stay there rent-free, in exchange for taking up these night shifts at the diner. I wouldn't pay you a regular salary, but of course you'd be able to keep any tip money you make. What do you think?"

"It's a deal," said Nancy breathlessly, hardly able to believe her own luck.

"Wonderful!" Francine beamed, and stuck out her hand. "I'm Francine, but you can just call me Fran."

"It's great to meet you, Fran. I'm Nancy," Nancy blurted out in her excitement, before realizing that maybe she shouldn't be using her real name. _Oh, well; too late now_. Fran released her hand and gestured towards the back door of the diner.

"Let's get you set up then, shall we, Nancy?" Nancy grinned and nodded, and followed Fran into the diner. The back door led directly into the kitchen, where a large, surly man in a white uniform stood scraping off a grill-top with a spatula. He looked up as they entered.

"Carl, this is Nancy, she's the new girl who's taking over Linda's shifts," Fran said briskly as she pushed Nancy towards the counter. Carl nodded wordlessly and Nancy didn't have time to give more than a little wave before Fran had whisked her around the counter. It seemed she wouldn't get a full tour of the diner now; they were headed toward a wooden door set into the wall in the back corner of the building. Fran fished a set of keys out of her apron pocket and unlocked the door to reveal a rickety spiral staircase leading upwards and out of sight. As they began to climb, Fran twisted back and dropped the keys into Nancy's hand.

"These'll get you into the apartment, the back door of the diner, and the front door," Fran explained. "Always keep your door and the back door locked; we get tons of kids messing around here trying to break in. Ah, here we are," she said as they reached the landing. "It's not much, but I think it'll suit you a little better than my rusty old car," said Fran.

"Yes," Nancy agreed with a laugh, "it's perfect." And it was. The apartment was a studio, with a small kitchenette built into the back corner; a little couch and coffee table; and in the corner opposite the kitchen, a brass-framed bed with a green coverlet. Next to the bed was a large, circular window looking out onto the main road that ran through downtown.

"There's a closet over here, and a bathroom," Fran said, gesturing off to the side. "Although this bathroom can't handle much, if you catch my drift, so for anything truly disastrous better use the one downstairs in the diner," Fran added with a smirk.

"Noted," said Nancy with a snort.

"I've got a waitress uniform about your size back at my place, but I need to get myself some shut-eye first. Why don't you get settled in here and I'll meet you back tonight to get started on your first shift? That sound good?"

"That sounds like a plan," nodded Nancy. "And Fran?" She asked as Fran began to head back down. Fran paused and looked back.

"Thank you," said Nancy sincerely. Fran winked and disappeared down the stairs.

* * *

By that evening, Nancy felt like a different person. Freshly showered, fed (Carl had kindly served her up a massive cheeseburger on the house), and changed into a clean new waitress uniform, it was as if the Nancy Wheeler of Hawkins, Indiana, 1983, had never existed. In her place was just NANCY (as her new nametag read), night waitress at the Blue Point Diner in Castle Rock, Maine. Nancy still wasn't clear on the year, but based on the cars and buildings she'd seen so far, she guessed about late 50's or early 60's.

New Nancy listened attentively as Fran rattled off instructions and hurried to keep up as she whisked back and forth along the diner floor. Always make sure the saltshakers are filled. Kick the jukebox right in this spot if the music freezes. If a customer is too drunk or tries to get handsy with you, tell Carl and he'll kick 'em out.

"Any questions?" Fran asked after she listed off about a hundred more instructions.

"Um…I don't think so," said Nancy, who truthfully could not remember half of what Fran had just said. But she wasn't too worried; the diner was as empty as it had been last night, which meant the late shift would probably never get too busy (at least on weeknights).

"Perfect," said Fran with a snap of her gum. "That's my cue, then. I'm headed out, but I'll be back around 7am to take over. If you have any trouble with anything, just ask Carl. He doesn't talk much, but he's been here a long time and he knows what's what. Ain't that right, Carl?" She called back over the counter. Carl merely grunted in response. Fran and Nancy laughed, and then Nancy bid goodbye as Fran headed out.

Unsure what else to do with herself in an empty diner, Nancy dutifully began to check all of the salt- and pepper-shakers, ketchup bottles, and napkin holders for any that needed refills. Then she scrubbed down all of the tables and the counter. Then she swept and mopped the floor. After all this, she looked up at the clock and saw that it was barely even midnight; only 2 hours of her 9-hour shift had passed. Sighing in disbelief, she hoisted herself up on the counter and peered over towards Carl, who sat perched on a stool reading a book.

"Hey Carl," she said, swinging her legs back and forth. He looked up at her from under thick eyebrows and didn't say a word.

"Whatcha doin'?" She asked.

"Reading," Carl grunted before looking back down at his book.

"Whatcha readin'?" She pried, desperate for conversation; anything to get rid of the boredom. Carl grunted again in response, this time completely unintelligible.

"Ah," said Nancy in a small voice, "I see." So much for that interaction. At that moment, however, they were both distracted as the front door swung open with a jingle. Nancy's breath caught in surprise as she realized it was Chris Chambers; but he hardly gave her a second glance as he stalked into the diner and headed directly toward the back corner booth. He sat down facing away from them, towards the window. Nancy jumped down off the counter, smoothed her skirt, and headed over towards him. She stopped right in front of him, but he didn't look up; just stared straight ahead out the window into the dark night. She hesitated for a moment, not wanting to interrupt him, but then she remembered her job.

"Can I get you anything…sir?" She asked nervously.

"Coffee. Black," he said, without looking up. "Please," he added as an afterthought.

"Sure thing," said Nancy. They didn't have any fresh coffee, and it took her a long time to figure out how to get the damn machine to work (Carl, absorbed in his book, was no help). It was nearly twenty minutes before she was able to produce a pot; by that time, she was sweating and frantic and nervous that she was basically already failing on the first day of the job. But Chris didn't even seem to notice; he remained sitting calmly in the booth, and did not once look back to see what the hell was going on with his order.

"Thanks," he said quietly as Nancy placed the cup down in front of him. He looked briefly up at her and then did a double-take with a jolt of surprise. Nancy jumped back, too; when he turned his face towards her, she saw that his entire left eye was swollen and purple.

"I had no idea Babe Ruth was moonlighting as a waitress at the local diner," Chris said with a grin; then he winced and brought a hand to his eye.

"I had no idea you caught my last homer with your face," Nancy shot back before she could stop herself. But Chris gave a shout of laughter, and she grinned too.

"Wanna sit with me for a little bit? If you're not too busy?" Chris asked, waving his hand at the seat across from him. Nancy rolled her eyes and looked around the diner, pretending to think about it.

"I dunno, these salt-shakers aren't gonna refill themselves for the eighth time tonight…" she said thoughtfully. Chris raised his eyebrows.

"Okay, you got me," she conceded. "I'm bored outta my mind here. Just gimme a second, I want a coffee, too." She grabbed herself a cup and the entire pot and brought them both back to the table. She slid into the booth across from Chris; the fit was snug enough so that their knees touched just slightly under the table.

"So you lied to me," said Chris as Nancy poured herself a cup. "Your name's not really Babe Ruth."

"Says who?" Said Nancy with raised eyebrows.

"Says your nametag," said Chris, reaching across the table to tap on the little plate stuck to her chest. " _Nancy_ ," he added, with emphasis.

"Ah. That. Damn," said Nancy, looking up at him with a smile. "Guess my cover is blown."

"Guess it is," he agreed, contemplating her over the rim of his cup.

"What about you?" She asked. "Now that you know my real name, are you at least gonna tell me what the hell happened to your eye since I last saw you? It wasn't that guy, Ace…was it?"

Chris's face hardened a little bit and he stared at her for a moment before saying: "Nope." He took a long drink of coffee and then set the cup down on the table rather abruptly, so that some of the coffee splashed out onto the table.

"Jeez, okay, sorry I asked," said Nancy, face burning as she hurriedly wiped up the spilled coffee with some napkins. She began to stand up. "Maybe I should just –"

"No, wait," said Chris, placing a hand over her own. "Stay. Please. I'm sorry," he said, looking up at her; his blue eyes were filled with regret. Nancy relented and sat back down.

"It's alright," she said, "I'm sorry for prying. I was just worried that maybe Ace took out his anger on you or something after I set on him with that bat –"

Chris laughed. "That was an all-timer, alright," he said, "Ace's probably never been bested like that by a girl – or by anyone for that matter – in his life. Sure, he was pissed off. But, no, this wasn't him, don't worry about it," he said, gesturing vaguely towards his eye. "But I have to ask," Chris said, leaning in towards Nancy. "What _were_ you doing all the way out at Rafferty's, anyway? How'd you even end up in that parking lot with Ace and Eyeball in the first place?"

Nancy thought for a moment before deciding to stick with a version of the story she'd already told Fran.

"I ran away from home," she said, "hitchhiked up from Derry. They brought me as far as Rafferty's, and I went in to try to call someone on the payphone. That was a bust, so I tried to leave and that's when Ace and his friend – did you call him Eyeball?"

"Yeah, otherwise known as my brother," said Chris sardonically.

"Your _brother_?" Said Nancy incredulously. "Jeez. I don't really see the family resemblance."

"Thanks," said Chris with a laugh. But then his expression became serious again. "But can I ask – why were you running away from home?"

Nancy looked down at the table and found herself unable to speak for a moment as memories of Hawkins began to resurface. Jonathan crying at Will's funeral; Barb's parents frantically calling the police day after day asking after their daughter; her own parents' utter indifference to all of it.

"Things were…things were bad at home," Nancy whispered truthfully, trying to hold back tears. Chris placed his hand over hers again, this time more firmly.

"I think I know what you mean," he said. She looked up at him and saw that he was pointing at his own blacked eye. Unable to speak, she turned her hand upwards to meet his palm and wrapped her fingers around his. They sat like that for a moment, gazing at one another, until they were jolted out of their reverie by a jingle at the door. A young couple strode in and seated themselves at a booth by the door.

"I've got to go, but I'll come back," said Nancy, squeezing Chris's hand.

"Nah, it's okay," he said, drawing back and sliding out of the booth. "I actually gotta get going anyway. Early day tomorrow." He dropped a few quarters down on the table for the coffee.

"Oh, uh, okay," said Nancy, confused by this abrupt shift. "I guess I'll see you around then, huh, Chambers?"

"Not if you keep serving coffee like that," said Chris over his shoulder with a grin. "I don't think waitressing's your calling; probably stick to the baseball diamond next time, Babe." Nancy's mouth dropped open in mock offense as Chris pushed out through the door. She then hurried to get the orders of the new couple. Back in the kitchen, she surreptitiously took a sip of the coffee and almost immediately spit it out. Chris hadn't really been joking; the stuff was mud. She dumped the rest of it down the drain.

The rest of the night passed uneventfully, and Nancy was dead on her feet by the time Fran came in to relieve her the next morning. She stumbled up the stairs to her apartment and flopped down on her bed without bothering to take off her uniform. She was asleep before she hit the pillow.


End file.
